


Jim, Sleeping Not Dead

by Jimlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimlockian/pseuds/Jimlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is preparing for another job when he catchs Jim sleeping rather unexpectedly. He makes use of Jim's ferretesque behavior.<br/>Reflective fluff ficlet on MorMor, the relationship and Sebastian the man. Rather fluffy, bondage suggestions, and sleepy!Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jim, Sleeping Not Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from my greatest colleague and eternal source of inspiration, Snap, and my ferret ideas.
> 
> Credit to Doyle, Moffat, & Gatiss, no copyright infringement intended. Just having fun!

When Sebastian walks down the hall he expects many sights that would drive most people to raise their brows at least. These include but are not limited to; the sight of dead bodies, that of a bare naked or scantily clad Jim Moriarty, or the aforementioned villain sitting aloof polishing one of his many pieces of fine weaponry. What does drive the blond to stare is his bedroom door.  
 

It is thrown open, which is unusual. He appreciates his privacy and has a natural habit of closing all loose ends behind him, including closing doors. The explanation of its gaping state lies sprawled across his silken sheets, well within view. Sebastian's half grimacing expression shifts to a tiny quirked lip as he enters the room with a firm step yielded by his combat boots. 

Sebastian ought have been heading to a particularly nefarious undercover operation - the specifics of which would be better left unsaid, for the reader's own safety. His sniper rifle is already packed away. All that remains is getting on location, yet.. 

Jim Moriarty had gotten half of his chic suit off - presently down to his trousers and undershirt. The other garments are folded over a nearby chair. Jim's position is the most emotionally flaring though.. Curled up slightly on his side, his cheek resting against the mattress while he dozes. 

Sebastian steps forward and looks down at his much shorter, more unhinged, boss slash lover. In his mind the slash always worked that way - boss first, lover second, and even then the use of lover is tentative. It does not feel right, but by definition it fits them: They spend half their time living together (the rest traveling dubiously), they shag constantly, and he sometimes thinks he can comprehend this bizarrely individual man. So intelligent, and Sebastian does not see him as addled, but as superior. He knows Moriarty's mind is a force,  a web of ideas, and nothing can kill an idea once it gets out in the world... And if there is anything Jim is good at, it's getting attention. 

The man yawns slightly and Sebastian stills as if he has caused it. He only relaxes when Jim pulls his hand closer to his chest and stills, quiet and sleeping soundly. With his eyes sweeping from point to point, checking, Moran determines it is a deep enough rest to risk touching Jim rather gently with his rough calloused palm. 

Jim has a bit more tan than he right now, a beautiful tawny-gold glow that gives him a healthy look. Sebastian considers him to look attractive in all shades, but summer is Jim's finest. With his curled in frame the shorter man is only made to look smaller; A far cry from sinister to be sure. 

Jim rolls over without warning, body turning toward Moran and thus trapping his hand underneath the slender man. Sebastian jerks his hand gently but everything is trapped well below the wrist. He is strong, but Jim is all dead weight. Though Moran would never use a word such as adorable it is a sight worth him struggling to wrest his hand free as gently as possible, so as not to disturb Jim. 

Sebastian Moran is a well built man. The sort of vision that anyone with half a brain would look upon and not want to cross. He is a skyscraper of a man with the physique of an athlete, sculpted chest of a bodybuilder, and the eyes of a hawk. Cold, unfeeling of its prey, and far reaching. Sebastian has, in his time, thrown and pushed weights that would make modern women swoon... But he cannot for the life of him easily shift James Moriarty. With reluctance overcoming him, he presses his free hand on Jim's shoulder and roughly pushes. 

Jim is sent sprawling and Sebastian's hand is free once more. Any other human being would have been woken by the abrupt jarring. Jim's limp body lies on his back, head tilted to the side. Still very much asleep. 

After a curious glancing over, awed by this sound sleep, Sebastian reaches out and takes Jim's hand. Barely any squeeze in response, the smooth unlabored hand lies limp within his own. He lifts Jim's wrist and the man does not move. Sebastian touches limb after limb in a slow exploration, only to find that Moriarty is dead to the world. "You ferret, Jim." Sebastian mutters.  

Five minutes later Sebastian leaves for his mission. 

* * *

 

The hawk eye stares down the rough hewn black tube containing his scope, getting a lock on his target. Details of said target are not to be disclosed herein, Sebastian's own code a strict one in many respects. Murder is never a question in that code; it is not about safety, or destiny, or morality, just strength; The brute strength of a Darwinian society that functions with guns instead of evolution.  

He remains relaxed while the dark weapon rests in the small tripod, finger not yet on the trigger. Sebastian is a collected sniper that does not miss, his marksmanship is unparalleled with man and beast alike. 

Jim does not cross his mind, even though he should. When Sebastian left he had  taken those few minutes to alter Jim's position. Anyone else would have thought about the sleeping figure waiting for them. So oblivious to the world was Jim that Sebastian had tied his wrists and ankles to the bedposts and wrapped Jim's own tie around his mouth. The man slept through being left face down and completely at Sebastian's mercy. That would be for later. 

The bondage was not at all meticulous, more than a touch below their usual tightness, but it would be enough to stop Jim should he awaken. Sebastian knew the deviant would wake and know, boss or not, that not everything is in his grasp. Sometimes someone else holds a card or two, and Sebastian pulls jokers and jacks. 

That does not matter though, not now. Looking through a restricted lens cuts off not only his range of sight, but range of mind. What Sebastian was or will be is irrelevant to the trigger finger that is his sole identity within those sparse moments. Sebastian is only a marksman, and nothing more. Neither does it matter what his target was, is, or will be. It does not matter who they are or what they do. A target is always a spot between cross-hairs, nothing more. 

The shot is soundless and fatal. Sebastian is already winding his fingers around the barrel to begin deconstruction of the rifle before the body hits the ground. Several stories and one building over, as someone notices, a scream rings out. It only takes Moran forty-seven seconds to get the rifle, scope and silencer separated, packed, and himself heading down the stairs. By the time police or anyone else show up Sebastian has already returned to his slumbering little ferret.

**Author's Note:**

> My first MorMor! First time Sebastian is more than a side character..
> 
> Props if you understood the meaning to the title!


End file.
